Dreams of Stormwings
by Apollyon Angel
Summary: *Teaser-ish* What defines reality? Where can you turn when everyone you should be able to trust doesn't believe a word you say? And you can't prove you're not crazy...


Title: (tentative) Dreams of Stormwings Author: Apollyon Angel Warnings: UNPOLISHED, UNFINISHED, basically a plot bunny that got away. Also, Quatre-angst, mental disturbances, etc... Disclaimers: I own neither Gundam Wing, nor the very cool idea of Stormwings for the stories by Tamora Pierce. I'm using them only for entertainment and not for gain.  
  
***************** Dirty, matted hair, uncut, shaggy. Sharp features, bird-like but still sickeningly human in visage. Hands-were they hands or claws? He couldn't remember. Feet of talons, unable to walk on land and covered in thick skin to the razor-sharp nails. Slim body covered in garbage, muck and filth, up to the wings. His wings were the only thing of beauty the creature owned, the feathers shining brightly, deadly, in the sunlight. Silver-colored wings that were tipped with blood. He was perched on a dead tree branch, grinning happily over a wasteland of Hell.  
  
"Jesus, Quatre!" The startled boy jumped in surprise and jerked his paper closer to his body. Duo reached out soothingly, his eyes shone with worry. "What *is* that?!" he asked, pointing to the paper now crumple in Quatre's frightened grip.  
  
"Aaaaaah," Quatre stalled, balling the drawing up as quickly as possible and tossing the ball into his backpack with a nonchalance that felt incredibly fake and nervous. "Nothing, just a...doodle." He smiled and dragged his friend out of the classroom without another word.  
  
Ducking out the broken emergency exit door, Quatre sighed at the relief of having survived another day of school. He was very glad that his last period of the day was study hall and that Duo had the class next to him, this being the fourth time in two weeks that he spaced out and missed the bell.  
  
Lost in his musings once again, he barely felt the hand on his shoulder that pushed him roughly again the brick wall. Holding back the majority of a startled yelp, Quatre's anger quelled at his attacker when the violet- blue eyes narrowed. Biting his lip, Quatre broke the eye contact within milliseconds, choosing a spot down and to the left to stare at while his friend hopefully regained his temper.  
  
Hoping in vain, though. Ignoring Duo was not an option when he was in the best of moods, when he was ticked off he demanded attention. Quatre shifted backwards, trying to fuse with the building at his back as the weight of Duo's silence hammered him into repentance.  
  
"Quatre..." Duo's soft voice was tinged with emotion, making his friend cringed inwardly. Fear was carried in that tone, fear for him, along with caring, hurt and helplessness.  
  
Quatre swallowed, he swung his backpack around and withdrew the crumpled paper. He handed it to the waiting boy, his heart dropping to his feet.  
  
"God." Duo breathed, his eyes widening to show the whites surrounding his irises. Pale as Quatre was, his friend surpassed his skin tone in seconds, turning to somewhere between snow and pea soup. "Q, if you've been having dreams again--"  
  
"No!"  
  
Duo looked up, his eyes still wide. "No," Quatre repeated. "I haven't had any dreams like that for a month now."  
  
"Then what...?" His friend asked, gesturing weakly at the sketch. Quatre took it, his eyes wandering over the smudged paper.  
  
It was only a standard 8x11 page, crisp white and thin, a cheap computer paper that he had snuck out of the house that morning. He grimaced, not at the picture, but at the thought of his parents finding out he was drawing again. And what he was drawing this time.  
  
A detailed battlefield laid out before his eyes, the uneven ground broken further with mangled limbs and bloodied weapons. The sky was clear and in the distance small, bird-shaped figures hovered, waiting patiently for their prey's final breath. Or maybe they only waited for the approval of the monster.  
  
"Stormwing," Quatre breathed, his eyes focusing on the figure that dominated the carnage of the landscape. The cruel eyes, the wicked, playful smile, the jagged, sharp teeth... "I was reading a book, a girl had given me," /Iria/, "and there were these creatures. Stormwings."  
  
Duo looked slightly less troubled, but fear still remained dominant in his features. "Do you remember the name of the book?"  
  
Quatre blinked, thinking quickly. He remembered...nothing. It was gone. His hands trembled a little as he studied the picture further. He couldn't remember anything about the book or the creatures. Why did he draw that...that thing? He remembered the urge to steal paper to do it, but he didn't remember why. What was happening to him this time?  
  
"Quatre?"  
  
"No, I don't know."  
  
"Well, uh, who gave it to you? What was it about?"  
  
"She was--" /'Don't worry about it, little brother. We're all rooting for you, even Father./ "It was about--" /'Quatre! Get your nose outta that book! Common!'/  
  
Duo waited impatiently, wringing his braid through his hands unconsciously, but Quatre could only shake his head. There was no point in trying to force the knowledge out-it never really existed in the first place.  
  
Duo's arms went around the trembling figure as the smaller boy's fists came up to tear the incriminating paper to shreds. But-he couldn't. No matter how much he wanted to, he couldn't really make himself believe that it didn't mean anything. Quatre swore and buried his head in his friend's shoulder.  
  
"I didn't mean to. Really, Duo, this time.I didn't mean to!"  
  
The braided boy nodded, rubbing his cheek on the other's crown. "I know, man, I know. I never thought you were crazy, not then and not now. I believe you, Quatre."  
  
The blonde pulled away, sniffling slightly and forced the paper into the other's hand. "Hold this for me. Please, Duo, and don't tell anyone. I don't want to go back to the hospital."  
  
"I promise, on one condition. If anything.you know, strange happens, or you have more dreams, you have to tell me. Right away this time!"  
  
The smaller boy nodded, catching Duo's eyes with a haunted aqua gaze that forced him to look away. 'No child should ever look like that,' Duo thought. 'So frightened and determined, like he's had to watch everyone he loved killed over and over. Like in those dreams of space. Poor Quatre, a kind soul like him shouldn't have such visions.'  
  
Duo turned, slipping the now crumpled and worn paper into a plastic sheath, and labeling it.  
  
'QRW-Item#17'  
  
***************** TBC? Who knows. Where was this bunny hopping to? Who knows.well, I have a vague idea-I am the all powerful author, after all.  
  
The main plot of this is that Quatre keeps having dreams/visions/flashbacks/whatever of the war and the people he knew, but it's very vague to him. The problem? He's just an average boy, was never a Gundam pilot or lived in the colonies. Or at least that's what everyone around him wants him to believe. Then it splintered itself and I didn't know which vein to follow:  
  
1) Gradually he begins to remember more and more, but none of his memories line up to reality and he doesn't know who to trust. Enter G-boy that he hasn't met in 'this life' and his memories collaborate with the other's. How can they escape?  
  
Or:  
  
2) He realizes that the events in his dreams are real-he's living two lives simultaneously. The first time he got 'sick' and the dreams became worse was during the war in his other life and it bled into his 'normal' life. This time he's more aware of everything and sees how, subtly, the Barton Incident is played out in both worlds. With the stigmata of his mental problems very few people believe his claims, but a few close friends do. Can they-totally normal kids with only vague premonitions to go off of- stop an upheaval that might change their lives forever? They'll have to be a lot more cunning than their counterparts; they have no Gundams, no power, and no support to help. 


End file.
